Dance Your Heart Out
by KHgirl2013
Summary: (Reader insert) spent her whole life wondering what her purpose was, she seemed to have no gift, no specialty, nothing. That was until she discovered dancing. It's become almost a religion for her now, dance, practice, learn, dance, repeat. But as she throws herself more and more into the art she loses bits of herself...
1. Chapter 1

Alrighty, I've been debating whether or not to post a story on Fanfiction for a while...or at least one written like this one. This story is written as a Reader-Insert and is geared towards female readers, but It doesn't REALLY matter, I don't think it'll turn into a 'romance' but I really don't know, I learn more about this story every day so...yeah. Tell me what you think!

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Feet flying like feathers across the wind, hair, flowing like a stream of water, body molding to the form in your mind like clay under the potters hand. You were a dancer; it was your life, your dream, your act of survival. Your face remained a mask, formed in the expression of a dazzling smile, never betraying the utter nothingness you felt tonight.

A leg lifted up to touch your head while the other leapt up into the air. A hand reached up, another grabbed your foot. When you set down again you were spinning, whirling around on pointed toe beneath you. It was normally exhilarating, to dance before the king in his court. But tonight, you were just there to show off for his son's friends.

When you felt your momentum slowing down the leg that was lifted up into the air set gracefully on the ground behind the other one. As soon as your bare toes scrapped against the dusty floor you began to bend your back, pausing for a minute when it was parallel to the ground.

Then, moving at blinding speed, you leaned backwards pressing your elbows to the ground. Sweat dripped down your back, telling you that this performance was nearing its climax. Shifting your weight from the feet firmly planted to the sliding elbows you shot up into a perfect handstand. Pushing yourself up onto your hands from your elbows was probably the most difficult maneuver you had attempted tonight. From the claps and whistling around you it must have been done in the best way possible. Good, so you weren't too exhausted this time.

Shifting your weight again you plummeted onto your knees, pausing for the barest moment before putting all of your remaining strength into preforming a short backflip. You felt your long hair swish past your face, scrape the floor, then fly through the air as you finished your revolving flip. Claps, loud shouts, applause, all sorts of compliments rained down on your performance. You gathered yourself in a split second, bowed, smiled, and walked out of the area provided for your various performances.

Your feet didn't quite ache yet, but you could still feel every muscle in the sole of your bare foot, not to mention your arms. It was possible you had pulled some sort of ligament in that last maneuver. But it couldn't stop you; you had to this all over again in two hours.

You walked with carefully planted steps down the dirt halls. This was all underground. And for good reason, if the king saw what his son had going on down here then his claim on the crown would be revoked for sure. That was…unless you had danced for him already. It was impossible to know with all of the spectators that snuck into this Black Market type lair. The prince had always loved all things exotic. From foods to slaves. He had it all. You weren't one of his slaves, more like his…helper, you guessed. The prince had always been hard to read.

You arrived in your designated room. It wasn't near as grand as the one the prince often stayed in, but it definitely wasn't the same room slaves would be housed in. A simple bed with silky smooth deep red sheets was nestled in one corner while on the opposite side were two doors, one that lead up to your room in the castle, and the other was your dance studio. You crossed the cold stone floor, carefully rubbing your dirty feet on the rug in front of the door, placed there just for this purpose, before walking inside.

A smile graced your make-up laden face, he had always insisted that you had to look your best, even if you didn't feel like it. You had come here when you were little, just to look around but staying here was a decision that you never regretted making. Never.

Your dancing career had started early. You had been born into a group of traveling merchants, gamblers, shop-keepers, basically a bit of everyone, even a tavern-keeper who's place of business had gone under when taxes just kept rising. You were the person who had no specific skill, or at least none to compare with the people surrounding you. That was until your dad had taken you and your sister to a ballet. She just sat there and drew the people, but you on the other hand, you were mesmerized, completely falling in love with the graceful motions of the dancers.

You smiled at the fond memory. Your first dance had been a wreck, like a horse and cart without a driver. But now…you could arguably be the best one in the whole country. Or at least in the top few.

Your dancing room was large, with a round ceiling, making it remind you of the inside of a theater. It had various bars at assorted heights to help you stretch, blocks on the floor that ranged from your ankles to your waist, ropes hanging from the pinnacle of the room, and a vast assortment of colored outfits to emphasize themes. Today your theme was Greece, particularly a live Greek statue. That implied a unearthly pale, perfectly smooth complexion, extremely graceful movements, and a flowing piece of fabric wound loosely across your torso and right leg.

You sighed. It was almost unbelievable, that a slave could have been forced to do this with even less covering…You scanned your wardrobe.

It was filled, from top to bottom with two types of outfits: your dancing ones, and the formal dresses you were supposed to wear in between dancing sessions. You looked for the right color, the Prince had said a deep blue one with a shorter skirt would be the criteria for this party. A few instantly popped out at you. A simple dress with a white apron that had a flowing skirt, stopping just above the knees. But you dismissed it for two reasons. One, while he hadn't specified formal attire it was always implied, and two, it was just too light in color.

Another one, a deep royal blue dress, just below the knees with a huge puffed skirt, obviously silk material, and a pair of puffed sleeves. You pulled it out to set it on another rack, one for those who fit the bill, but needed another look.

A third practically screamed at you. It was longer than the others, but had a slit going far up on both legs, stopping at the mid-thigh. This one was a bit of a stretch on the directives given, as it was two-toned, both purple and blue. With a deep plunge and a black ribbon at your waist, it was one of your most form…revealing fancier occasion dresses, you put it next to the other one.

The final dress was black. Or at least the base was. On the base spirals and crowns lined the edges of this ensemble, but the base was higher up on your leg than any of the others, coming a full four inches above the knee. It had two layers, one was deep blue, so dark it could be mistaken for black. It would hug your thighs and (hopefully) prevent anyone from getting an look up your skirt, while the other was looser. Looser and almost mesh-like it had the designs on it, all of them spiraling up closer to your waist, where a blue corset awaited them to bind the dress together. A long sleeved sheer covered your arms in delicate butterflies. You set this up by the others.

And now. For the choices. You had…about thirteen more minutes before your best palace friend, Vanille would come into your room, shouting with that huge grin on her face, complaining all the while about absolutely nothing. You either had to be there when that happened, or cleverly devise a way to circumnavigate the maid when she went looking for you. As she most certainly would…well, thirteen, no, twelve minutes wasn't enough time for that.

After that? Well then the dance of not disappointing the prince would begin.


	2. Chapter 2

You decide that the dress decision could wait a little bit. Ten minutes until Vanille would come running for your room and fifteen or so until the prince would start to wonder where you were. You quickly change into your normal clothes, or at least get out of the dancing outfit.

The sash was just left on the floor as you pulled on a plain dress without any special treatment.

Nine minutes till Hurricane Vanille struck. You smile. She was probably the only person around here who likes you for more than your dancing, it was…refreshing.

You take short, backwards steps out of the room and spun on your heel to face the door that lead up to your 'official' chambers. The one you had to be there in less than ten minutes or else the king and the rest of his officials will hear about your prince's little basement playground. You sigh, closing and locking the door from your studio area into the main room. Your feet carry you towards the door at the opposite side of the wall, completely forgetting that they were even aching just minutes before.

You pull at a string around your neck, get out the key. It was a very pretty key. A long, thin shaft with an intricate heart at the end. You take little time to admire it before slipping it into the keyhole, and opening the door. A gust of cool air rushed past your face. You instinctively breathe in deeply. It feels good to be reminded that a coolness can survive in an area of heat and desert.

The stairs creak under your weight. Your feet land in a practiced manner, as to minimize the noise they make. You snicker quietly to yourself. The idea that this cold passageway could stay hidden from not only the servants, but the older prince was ironic.

Two princes. Two leaders and sons of the king in this castle. But the older of the two virtually shunned the life of a prince, preferring to spend his days roaming anywhere and everywhere, playing around outside of the castle grounds, or just plain disappearing. It was odd actually, he always seemed to be stretched between the two worlds. Which was the opposite of his brother, who preferred to draw the outside in. The prince who lived in the moment, one who relies on this castle world to give him all of his desires. While it wasn't any better than his brother, the younger prince's preference gave you your job so there isn't much room for you to complain.

As you pick up the pace you notice the glowing crystals that had been in the cavern since you'd found it. Maybe you should bring one to the prince in case you were late? That'd satisfy his moodiness, at least for that instant in time.

You run your hand across the smooth stone, feeling for a loose rock. Your sensitive fingertips find one after a few more steps .

It is glowing like the rest but somehow it was different. It wasn't the color or the intensity of the glow, in fact it wasn't the glow at all that set it apart. The shape of the stone was actually the strange thing. It was perfectly smooth. Almost as if it had been chiseled out purposefully by someone just for you to find it.

You shrug. It's not as if it's extremely important at the moment. The important thing was being in your chambers before Vanille burst in with news about some local hubbub and such. It brings a faint smile to your face.

The last few steps loom into view. Only seven minutes left before you'd be at the door.

A sudden thought struck you. The stone _was_ perfect. Something so perfect that even the prince, who rarely had an interest in anything, would enjoy looking at, and the air of mystery would at least keep him interested. Shrugging again you tuck the stone into a flap at the front of your dress, the stone can wait for further inspection. You continue going up the steps, five more left.

Four…

Three…

Two…

One.

As your hand reaches the doorknob you hear your other door swing open. A sudden panic fills you. Vanille is in your room and in a few seconds she'll –

"~~~~~! Where are you, I think you'll want to hear this!"

That. As if it wasn't already obvious who it was her slight accent gives her away. It wasn't much, but the slight stress on her 'a' and such make her sound semi-foreign. The accent is pretty cool to you.

"What is in Vanille? What's the hub-ub?" You grin when the words leave you, that is all that she needs to start a rant.

She jumps up from the doorway and plops down on your bed, not even asking for your permission before continuing on, "So you haven't heard?'

You look at her, "Nope, what is there to hear?"

"The prince snuck out again, not that that's anything new, but this time there was something interesting about him. One of the king's spies followed him out and discovered where he's been going all of this time. But that's not the weirdest part. When the spy tried to report to the king prince came walking into the room casually and just dumped a bagful of jewels at his feet, tipped his hat, and walked right back out. His majesty was so surprised he fainted!"

"No, I didn't hear that yet" _I was busy dancing,_ "Where do you think he's been going?"

"I don't know! He's somehow been keeping it a secret, the spy person claimed memory loss too. I think he was bribed." Vanille flops all the way down on her back and starts to kick her feet at the air.

You can feel the corners of your mouth lift, she was probably your best castle friend. Or at least best friend that was unaware of your double life.

"So Nille, what are you going to do about this mystery?" You looked at her face carefully.

She cracked open her green eyes carefully. When she saw your eyes on hers she grinned, "We solve it of course!"

It shouldn't have been a surprise…her wanting to do something must have been a definite in any universe.

"Yup, we're going to do something completely awesome and watch as everybody else falls on their knees begging for our secret insights on the life of our prince!"

You snicker at her antics, sometimes she can be just too much for even your stand-offish exterior. But you guess she is used to it, after all one doesn't have an issue with non-responsiveness and be friends with Fang of all people.

There were a few 'plots' that she rambled on about for a few more minutes. One consisted of sneaking outside and following him, but you instantly reminded her that if she'd even think of trying it then the older prince wouldn't go where she wanted him to. He was notoriously good at telling when he was being followed.

A bell rings from outside the corridor. A groan punctuates the ending of the chime. Vanille pulls her legs up and starts to whine, "But I don't wanna go back to work. Work's legal torture."

The small whining noise at the end of her sentence brings up an unusual bubbly sort of laughter in your throat. After all, it's not every day you get to hear Vanille complain about something. She's normally pretty bright and sunny.

"Go on Vanille, wouldn't want her bitchiness to have dirty room, now would we?"

She groans again, "I don't want to though…" Sighing she pulls herself up from your bed and walks lethargically to the door. Her boots scrape against the large stone plates that lined the floor. She certainly looked like she didn't want to go. The scratches wouldn't be very loud to most people, but to you who is in the direct area, it was pretty loud.

With her short hesitant steps it took forever for her to get to the door, but when she did she spun around on her heel. That huge grin is back on her face. "See you later ~~~~~! Ciao!"

The door opened and shut within a few seconds. Always on the move that one. Quickly you calculate the remaining time you have. About…three minutes left. Good. It takes about one to get to your room down the stairs, and since sometime during Vanille's reveal of information you decided that the final dress, the one with two layers, butterflies and a corset was the one you wanted to wear. The one that the prince might just find disapproval in. While he had given loose specifications the skirt was a little on the high side.

You have some time to squander just laying down on your bed. It wasn't soft per say, but not hard by a long shot. It was still comfy. You lay your head down on the blanket, allowing it to clear momentarily.

Ah…just let it all go. A big blob of na-da is going through your mind. And man did it feel good to just have nothing happening.

If you could you would. Nothing would ever happen in your book, nothing but what you enjoy…no prince, no pressure, no dancing – wait, there'd still be dancing, that is your bread and butter, your cup of tea, the thing you enjoy, nah, that wouldn't go away…

A deep sigh escaped your lips. You wouldn't be surprised if you didn't have a single responsibility for the rest of the day with how peaceful you feel right now. It was almost perfection, almost – almost – almost

Your eyes widen. You have to be in the prince's presence in less than one minute!

Scrambling to your feet you race across the room. Your shaking hands clamber for the key around your neck. How could this have slipped your mind!

Your feet, normally so practiced at skipping the squeakiest stairs, seem to hit every spot that is bound to make not only a small squeak but a loud hiss and a groan under the pressure. The lights blur in your peripheral vision, your mind and the thoughts that are contained within it whirl around mushing together like soup.

Somewhere along the mad dash for safety you start to pull of your simple dress leaving you to continue sprinting in nothing but petty undergarments. But you find little energy to care that is not being used up at the moment.

You throw open your door, panting slightly. Your footsteps fall faster than they ever had in any dance, momentarily forgetting their practiced grace. When your frantic movements reach the wardrobe the doors fly open so quickly they seem likely to fall off from the shock.

You however pay this no mind. You are too focused on getting that stupid dress on, why did it have to be so tight!

You let out a groan. Fifteen seconds left!

Struggling for air, let alone time and speed, you dash off again in the direction you know the prince will be in.

Ten seconds. How could you have been so stupid to forget! Not only that but what possessed you to pick this dress again? It isn't very conducive for running that's for sure. (And the shoes weren't helping either…)

Six seconds. The door is nearing, and at quite the pace as well. If you weren't confident in your ability to stop at short notice you wouldn't have been running at that pace. But you are, so you do.

Two seconds. The door is feet away from you. And it won't be getting any closer unless those feet of yours keep moving! Skidding to a stop mere inches from the door you hold your failing breath. It helped you to get your erratic breathing under control before you grew used to such heavy regiments of dancing. Praying you are not too late and that your gaspings for air go unnoticed by everyone else, your hand grasps the knob and pushes inward.

The effect is instant. The heavy smell of various incenses waft into your nostrils. Laughter and groans filled your ears. And the sight that meets your eyes is a familiar one.

Rapid voices filled your ears while mouths moved around words you didn't really care about. Your eyes scan the room, look over the many people, the tables of filled with food, everything. The only chair in the room is empty, the place where the prince normally sat is empty.

Your frantic eyes look over every surface in hope of catching a glimpse of unruly black hair and an insufferable smirk with fancy clothes. Nothing could make you forget it, and nothing could make you more fearful.

"Yo ~~~~~, you're a full 17 seconds late. What held you up?" Oh, you knew that voice anywhere. The cocky tone, the proud air, and that something that made you want to both cringe and jump for joy.

You turn around slowly with some deliberation. Partially afraid of what you know you will find and partially because you are interested in just how mad he is sure to be, that expression of anger on his face is something that is almost worth suffering that is bound to follow. Last time you were forced to do a non-stop dance for about four hours. But man, was that shocked angry look priceless…

Either way when you turned around it wasn't anger that meets your eyes, but an almost smug satisfied look gazed back at you through golden yellow eyes, a hint of amusement sat on those slightly upturned lips.

"I apologize lord."

He made a sort of exasperated look and waved a hand, "See what you missed? And lord what miss ~~~~~? Lord amazing, lord awesome, lord splendid…"

His ego was one to be reckoned with. And not one to be trifled with.

"Lord _Vanitas_."

His face showed the emotion of triumph. The sound of feet shifting and the rustle of clothing is the only warning you have. He leaned down to your level. The prince, the frightening, wonderful prince whispered into your ear.

"You lack the proper respect to do anything more than be a _dancer_ ~~~~~, you can be nothing more than a _petty_ slave until you understand my lessons."

…

**Wow...That speed was a fluke. I swear...Anyways here's the chapter. And now for the question: (There will be one at the end of each chapter)**

**How do YOU want ~~~~~ to react to that last statement? And what do you want the next dance theme to be? (The last one was Greek Statue…)**


End file.
